


the good side of me

by dreamtowns



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Noctis Lives, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: Prompto welcomes the King home.





	the good side of me

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Drop a comment/kudos if you liked it!

A yawn almost broke his jaw when he finished the chapter. Prompto blinked at the clock and whistled lowly as he noticed the time—nearing two in the morning, and yet only he was in his apartment. Technically, it wasn’t really an apartment—the royal suits, to be more specific—but it always made Prompto feel less anxious to call it an apartment. Four years since his engagement to Noctis, since the prince ascended the throne, and Prompto has yet to truly accept the fact that he isn’t just a commoner on the arm of royalty. He _is_ royalty.

Before any hysterical laughter can burst from his throat (and alarm the poor Glaives on duty), Prompto turns on the TV. True to form, it’s on a local news channel. Most news stations would’ve been playing late-night comedy shows and the like, but everyone was well aware of the fact that Noctis had left Lucis for a diplomatic conference.

Relations with Niflheim and other countries were positive, and the economy thrived under Noctis’ fresh perspective from months spent in the wilds of Lucis, but there would always be enemies to the crown. Old loyalists to Emperor Aldercapt, councilmen and women who thought they were scorned because Noctis didn’t succumb to pressure and allow a xenophobic and racist agenda, extremists who disliked the thought of a royal family, people who disapproved of Noctis marrying for love, marrying a commoner ( _ ~~marrying a niff~~_ ), people who ran themselves ragged with grief from the Long Night—the list went on.

Prompto himself fretted over Noctis’ wellbeing while in Altissia, but, well, Prompto always worried over things he couldn’t control. It was a habit he couldn’t really shake off, even when younger, and the Long Night truly reinforced it to nearly unbearable heights.

Every five minutes, the news anchor gave brief updates on the state of incoming flights. No one knew if Noctis would fly into the airport in Insomnia or someplace outside the Crown City. No one knew if he were on a private plane or not—well, Prompto knew. Ignis might’ve had a coronary if Noctis flew in anything less than first class.

Journalists were probably frothing at the mouth to be the first to write an article about King Noctis’ return from Altissia, ready with their cameras and small notepads to catch a glimpse of Noctis as he stepped off the plane in either comfortable, casual wear or his kingly attire.

His phone buzzed. 

Prompto drew his eyes away from a news story about a small dog getting stuck in a fence— _the poor baby_ —and opened his text. Short and succinct, true to Gladio’s form, but it made a bright smile blossom on his sleep-heavy lips.

> _Just landed. No ETA._

Prompto resisted the urge to update his social media, knowing it’d be better to wait until Noctis was safe and sound inside the protective range of the Citadel to inform the rest of the world he returned. He does scroll through his feed on twitter, nonetheless, liking and retweeting a few positivity tweets. He switches between his social media and messaging Gladio (read: annoying him) about updates.

His phone buzzed again, but it was a simple notification that Iris had played her turn in the online mancala game. He opened the app—she was kicking his ass, like usual. He wasn’t surprised that Iris was awake. Not only was she hypervigilant like the rest of the Citadel, but she was also the Glaive currently guarding the door to his and Noctis’ suite.

Prompto had gotten the shock of his life when, a few days after his wonderful honeymoon, they had gone through the official ceremony that legitimized Iris’ position as his Shield. He’d been under the impression that only Noctis would have a shield, or that Gladio would just shield them both, and when he said as much to Iris, she almost ruined her stomach lining with laughter.

 _“I was always going to be the Shield to the Queen,”_ Iris had said, and then added, with a laugh, _“Or, well, Consort, in your case.”_

He and Iris played a few more turns before she won by a startling, but unsurprising, margin. He barely obtained any of the marbles. He eyed the time again— _almost three_ , he thought to himself—and chewed on his bottom lip as he refreshed his twitter feed.

He turned his attention to the news, but there were no reports of accidents or road work. Prompto sighed and set his phone down on the coffee table. After he curled the knitted throw blanket they’d received as a wedding gift around his shoulders, Prompto settled into a more comfortable position and cracked open his book. He wanted to get in a few more pages before his attention was consumed by Noctis like it always is.

The door opened with a soft click, and Prompto jolted, almost violently, out of the quiet daze he’d fallen into. His book tumbled onto the rug with a muted thump, and he hummed in confusion until he heard Noctis’ familiar chuckle.

“I see you’ve had a busy night,” Noctis teased as he shrugged off his jacket and shoes. Though obviously weary and haggard from the journey and conference, Noctis looked as wide-awake as ever.

Prompto made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. He _did not_ plan on welcoming his husband by falling asleep. “Mmm . . . sorry.”

Noctis snorted. “For what? Sleeping? Baby, you didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“Wanted to.” Prompto then made grabby-hands at Noctis, because he’s an infant, obviously, and nearly preened at the laugh that slipped off Noctis’ tongue. Only he could make his husband laugh like that; a bright and whimsical sound that floated and pressed against his ribcage. A heartbeat in the darkest of times. “C’mere, I’m _cold.”_

“I see, I see—you only married me for my body heat.”

“Duh.”

Nonetheless, Noctis slid his arms around Prompto and picked him up briefly before he settled onto the couch, leaving Prompto the only choice of lying atop him. Noctis melted into the embrace, strengthening his hold around Prompto’s torso, as he pressed his nose against the curve of Prompto’s neck.

Prompto squirmed a little. “Why is your nose _cold?_ Are you some vampire?”

“Ha, ha,” said Noctis before he playfully nibbled on Prompto’s neck.

“No _hickeys_ ,” Prompto hissed, suddenly wide awake, and managed to smoosh Noctis’ face away from his neck. Thank you, morning yoga, for improving his flexibility. “I have a,”—a yawn interrupted him briefly— “charity function at three.”

“So?” Noctis’ smile turned a little wolfish as he murmured, “We have time.”

“Iggy will kill you.”

“That’s regicide,” said Noctis.

Prompto rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, but he didn’t protest when Noctis leaned in for a kiss. Slow and languid, Prompto barely noticed shifting into a more comfortable position—all but straddling Noctis—as the kiss deepened in length. It evolved into tongue and nipping teeth, and goosebumps littered his skin as he wrapped his arms around Noctis’ neck, all sleep gone from his system when Noctis pressed closer and—

And then, Noctis fucking _sneezed._

Prompto flew back, immediately, screeching and laughing. “That was so _gross,”_ he wailed as Noctis bent over with laughter. Prompto wiped his face with the blanket before he whacked Noctis with it. “How could you betray me like that? _Ugh_.”

“Hey. _Hey_.”

Noctis threw a pillow in his direction in protest to the assault, but they both froze when Prompto ducked and it hit a vase on the side table. The vase tilted to the side precariously for a heart-thudding moment, and they watched, entranced, with bated breath until it settled back in place a few seconds later.

“Holy shit,” Prompto breathed out. “Iggy would’ve killed the both of us if that fell.”

In an accent that certainly didn’t belong to their royal advisor and friend, Noctis mimicked, “Do yeh know how expensive that is? How priceless? This has been in your families’ care since the—.”

Prompto whacked him with the blanket, but he laughed too hard to make it do more than tickle. “Stop—he’s gonna hear you, and then he’ll be like some disappointed father.”

Noctis snorted.

The mirthful atmosphere stilled as they shared a glance and erupted into laughter once more. They were almost in their forties, and yet they acted like they were barely fifteen; silly and fearful of Ignis’ disapproving stares at their mischief. It neared four in the morning when they managed to control themselves. Prompto had things to do in five hours— _Noctis_ had a whole set of responsibilities to look over since he returned from his trip.

Prompto stretched and yawned again. “Well . . . there’s only one thing to do now.”

Noctis smiled, his gaze soft and warm in Prompto’s direction. Prompto smiled back at the butterfly-feeling that never quite disappeared with age. “I can think of a few things we can do.”

Prompto gave him a wary glance. “Like . . . sleep?”

Questions dissipated on his tongue when Noctis scooped him up in his arms, bridal style, and walked toward their bedroom at a determined pace. Prompto, even if he wanted to, couldn’t stop his giggling.

> **prompto** @HRMprompto • 3s
> 
> look who finally returned {attached image}
> 
> _Attached Image Descr.: A selfie of King Noctis and King-Consort Prompto; Prompto is smiling at the camera as King Noctis presses a gentle, tired kiss to the crown of his forehead._

**Author's Note:**

> have some fluff :)


End file.
